Late Night Cravings
by DramioneLurver
Summary: The stress of the war wears down on Molly Weasley, and sometimes she just needs to eat something, anything. Even that strange Muggle food Ginny's boyfriend made.


**Disclaimer: Once upon a time, I owned Harry Potter. Then I woke up.**

**A/N: Written for the Food Challenge, prompt given below. Hope you enjoy! **

Sometimes she just felt like she could fall into her bed and sleep away the rest of eternity. Although she had experienced the dark side of war when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named first rose to power, she didn't have children to worry about back then.

Most days, she tried to maintain a cheery air, hoping that everyone else might just smile a little bit. But like all of those smiles, her own grin was completely and utterly fake ninety percent of the time. Pretending to be happy, she found, required a whole lot of energy, hence her desire to sleep away the rest of everything.

Unfortunately, she couldn't even fall asleep at all. Waiting for her beloved husband to get home, her brain inevitably focused on what could go wrong, who could get hurt, where You-Know-Who could strike next. These thoughts ate away at her nerves until she threw her blanket aside and went downstairs for a bit of peace of mind.

When Molly needed to forget about some plaguing thoughts, she used a trusted routine to get her back on the happy track. First she would throw herself into cleaning her house. Immediately she brought out her wand and twirled it around this way and that, casting a pile of blankets here and a stack of dishes there, sending the bits of garbage into a pile before Vanishing it with a wrinkle of her nose. As she passed the Wizarding Radio, she turned it on a low volume, praying the soft music would help the relaxation project.

The music, however, lasted much longer than the cleaning did. Since she had been cleaning the house practically on a nightly basis, there was hardly any mess. Deciding she could try and listen to the songs drifting through the air, she picked up her knitting and started to hum.

After a few minutes, though, she couldn't take it anymore. Cleaning didn't work. Music didn't work. Knitting didn't work.

She needed to go to the kitchen.

For her entire life, Molly had been an emotional eater. She quite honestly hated that fact sometimes, feeling like her dependency on food to make her happier meant she was pathetic and couldn't just talk to someone or read or knit like normal people. (Not to mention the horror it performed on her waistline, but then again, she had stopped fretting about that shortly after giving birth to Fred and George.) At times, she would crave very specific foods, especially during, ahem, _certain _times of the month.

That night, however, Molly just wanted something to eat. Something, anything, everything.

When she stumbled into the kitchen, one hand rubbing her temple gently, she immediately headed to the cupboards, hoping for something sugary. Sweets, maybe. When the cupboards disappointed her, she continued to search all the secret hiding spots her children had for the good stuff. Again, she came up empty handed.

Maybe it would help if she restocked her supply every once in a while, especially since the war could only get worse before it got better.

Settling down in a chair around the table with a heavy sigh, she glanced towards the clock on the wall and felt another encompassing cloud of depression settle around her. Turning her head to the side, that was when she saw it.

Ginny's latest boyfriend – a nice enough boy, she supposed with a disappointed frown – had come over earlier than day with a light blue box and a bag of white puffs. The two of them spent a good hour and a half in the kitchen, talking and laughing like their lives were completely normal and not in danger. In a way, Molly was grateful towards the boy for that much; even if she wished her daughter would pick a _certain _someone _else_ to date, hearing her laughter was worth almost any price.

When the boy left, however, Molly returned to her kitchen to find one of her pans half covered in a layer of very light brown lumps.

"Ginny!" she called in a anxious voice, sending the strange sight a distrusting glare.

"What?" her daughter yelled from upstairs.

"What is in my kitchen?" Molly demanded, poking the sticky goo with her finger.

"What?" Ginny replied, sounding confused. Then the sound of quick footsteps on the staircase resounded through the house. "Oh," Ginny uttered when she entered the kitchen, "I made it with Dean. It's some kind of Muggle treat. Rice Crisps, or something like that."

"And what am I supposed to do with them?" Molly questioned, wrinkling her nose with distaste.

"Dunno, mum. Let Ron eat it," Ginny suggested before running back upstairs. Unfortunately, even Ron didn't trust the foreign Rice Crisps things – or whatever they were called – so they sat on the counter untouched for the rest of the day.

At half past nine, however, Molly was getting just a bit desperate. Ginny had said they were Muggle treats, right? Meaning they were probably sugary and sweet. Cautiously, Molly approached the pan, examining the strange looking food thoroughly before stretching out her hand to touch it.

Deciding it would be best if she just suddenly ripped off a piece, Molly grabbed a clump in one hand and attempted to tear it away from the rest of the pile of gooeyness. To her surprise, the treats were stickier than she thought, refusing to separate completely. Several strings of white mess still connected the piece she had in her hand and the collection in her precious pan, eerily reminding her of spider webs.

Thinking that she could quickly pull the strings until they broke, she let her other hand get all sticky as well. After a short struggle, she was victorious, gripping a small portion of the weird food tightly. Although it was now its own piece, Molly didn't know if she really wanted to eat it. It looked… weird.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she brought her hand towards her mouth. She bit her lip once and closed her eyes before shoving a little bit of the treat into her mouth.

After all, she was desperate.

Suddenly, her eyes shot open. The… whatever it was called, was good! It was delicious! It was sweet and sugary and sticky and hit the spot just right.

Without even realizing it, Molly reached for another piece, tearing it from the collection of stickiness faster this time. Again and again she reached for the mysterious lumps that were surprisingly yummy and unbelievably addictive.

A giggle echoed through the air, and Molly slapped her hand to her face in surprise before letting it go and laughing louder. Her lips and fingers were gooey, but she didn't care. She was enjoying herself so much, she almost didn't hear the approach of footsteps from outside. Spinning to glance at the clock, she rejoiced at the sight of Arthur's hand having moved. Her husband was home.

Rushing to the door, she quickly asked him his security question, giggling as she loudly answered his. She opened the door and gave him a quick kiss as he walked in. The weariness evident in his face lightened a bit with his surprise and slight amusement.

"Why are your lips all sticky, dear?" he questioned as he licked his own multiple times to get rid of the sugary layer. Molly giggled once more as she took his hand and led him into the kitchen to introduce Arthur to the Muggle sweet.

She would have to thank that boy one day.

**A/N: My prompt was Molly Weasley and rice krispie treats at 9:30 at night. **


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